Read 'Saved' a short piece by moi

Saved

I sit in the café waiting, waiting. I didn’t know he’d keep me waiting. Wasn’t that funny? Never thought he was the type. Seemed he was. Didn’t he know you can become addicted to people? I’m at the withdrawal stage now. I need my hit. The waitress asks again if I’m ready to order, I draw a look of stealth hatred. I don’t have to talk. I don’t want to. Free country. Freedom of speech, freedom of thought. I wondered about that. Are our thoughts free? Some thoughts are not meant to be right, but then who’s to stop us thinking? You can think of killing the person next to you on the bus. On the train. In the street. No one will find out. You can think about killing the blonde waitress with manicured nails tapping her clipboard impatiently. Tell her I’m waiting. Like she doesn’t know. Hide my scubby nails.
I think about all this while he makes me wait. He makes me wait. It’s not nice, making people do things. I plan what to say when he arrives. How to cut him down when he tries to speak. Then I’ll leave. Flounce. Bounce, something dramatic. But bouncing would only work if I had long wavy hair like the waitress does. No, you can’t bounce out of a room with short stubby hair like mine. Still, I’ll do my best to strut my stuff out of there while he chews his nails, guilt setting in thick already.
Of course it’s not to be. Your classic no-show. Fucker. I’m cool with it though. Considering. The hand touching, the love-notes, the secret phone calls in the dead of the night. His fresh-eyed face in the morning. What the hell. Life’s too short to live it just for him. I will be calm, I will be collected, soldier on. As long as I get out of this shit-hole café in one piece, dignified, righteous, worthy. Ha. All the things I’m not.
I move slowly from my chair at first. The weight of shame, such a burden to carry. Then I feel the eyes upon me, and my movements become hurried, uncomfortable, faltering. I break free into the fresh air of the street. Outside. I feel insides-out. I’ve been turned outsides-in. I never thought he would be a no-show. Could he have known?
I ran my finger along the smooth blade of the knife in my skirt pocket. My little friend, my little helper. Who was there to tell him? Any others had gone, long gone. Never uttered another breath let alone word. It was my little secret and he couldn’t have guessed. The knife split my skin, my finger bled. I didn’t care. Something had changed. I was no longer in control. He made this happen, he changed the way it went. I walked, and walked. I knew I had a direction, I just didn’t know what was compelling me to go there. I needed help, yes. Someone was marking out my steps, I didn’t ask for this help.
I saw the kind lady smile at me. She had a kind voice as well.
The ones that save you always do.